The Child of Gallifrey
by Fizz the Great
Summary: Ever wondered where Sherlock came from. Due to his weird eating habits and less sleep each day makes people think, is he even human? read the deleted scenes of Doctor who and sherlock. I suck at summaries One Shot. Picture from Pinterest


Child of Gallifrey

Prologue

It was a dark night, around him, there was fire. The fire that burned the houses down, explosions so big it shook the ground. But he didn't care. He didn't care at all. He had no family or loved ones. There was another explosion. The crates beside him fell. He dodged out of the way, calculating exactly where every single box would land. His life was about to be a mess, a horrible nightmare where he can't wake up. Until the mysterious man came. The person who saved his life, and became a family to him.

A man wearing a long pinstripe coat and tie walked towards him. His hair was messy and unkept, his hands tucked in his pockets.

"Hello, what are you doing here?" He asked, "Where's your family?"

"No where," the boy replied, "go away."

The man shrugged. "This planet is going to exploded soon. Nobody on it will survive."

The boy looked up, "Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm going to leave soon, you want to come with me?"

"How can I trust you?" The boy asked as the strange man shrugged again.

Suddenly there was another large explosion, the ground beneath them fell.

"Run!" the man called, but the boy just sat there.

"What are you doing, you're going to die!"

"There won't be a difference if I don't," the boy continued to sit there.

The man sighed and picked the boy up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it you crazy person!" he kicked at the man but there was no use.

The man ran surprisingly fast, dodging flying rocks and wood. The boy on his back squinted his eyes. What was that in front of him? A police telephone box? What's that going to help them? But the man kept on running until he got there and went in the box.

It was bigger on the inside. It was a time machine.

"Did you steal that?" the boy asked, eyes searching the ship. "You don't look like a man to afford such an expensive piece."

The man ran to the controls and quickly pushed a few buttons. The lights started flashing.

"Where are we going?" The boy asked.

"Ah, you are a boy with many questions," the man turned around. "Hello, forgot to introduce myself. I'm the Doctor and I'm 957 years old. I'm also a Time lord. This is my spaceship, the Tardis."

"A Time lord?" the boy scoffed, "You're going to put me on a trial or something?"

The Doctor thought for a moment. "Nope, I'm here to help you."

"Help me? I don't need help. Where are we going anyway?"

The Doctor smiled, "How about let's just say, do you want to go on an adventure?"

The boy grinned. Then both of them walked out the Tardis.

1990, September 9

"No, you couldn't leave me here, I won't let you!" the boy wrestled with the Doctor for a moment.

"I'm sorry, but you need a family. You can't forever travel with me."

"Why not?"

"I have other things, dangerous things that you shouldn't come along. I also have no idea how to take care of you."

"But…"

"You need a family okay? That's an order."

The boy turned around angrily and blew black curly hair out of his face.

"But remember, I'll meet you every year at this place, this day, exact time." The Doctor said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Here's a gift for you," he took out a cage and inside, was a brownish-red puppy.

The boy's eyes lit up. "Oh thank you doctor!" and hugged him.

The boy walked out the Tardis and waved a goodbye. The puppy barked joyfully.

"Oh wait!" the boy ran up to the Doctor, "Here's a cool pen I found on one of our trips, take it as a remembrance of me."

"Thank you," the Doctor took it gingerly and tucked it in one of his inner pockets.

"Goodbye Doctor!" the boy said and watched as the Tardis disappear.

A lady found him wandering in the woods the next day and invited him to live with her and her family. She had another son that was 11 years old, fours years older than him. The family made him a passport and id. They later adopted him. Ever since that day, every year the boy came the place in the woods to meet the mysterious man, who saved his life. Until one day…

1995, September 8

"Okay, see you soon!" as he waved a goodbye to his older brother, Mycroft.

Tomorrow was his birthday. Tomorrow he will turn 13.

"Come on Redbeard." he called to his dog and off they went running into the woods. They ran without stopping until they got to a small clearing. Sunlight shone from up high.

"He should be here," the boy looked at his watch. '9:06'. He sat on a large flat rock and brushed hair from his eyes. And he waited. But there was never a whooshing sound. The boy stood up, '9:34'.

"The Doctor's late," he murmured. So the boy waited, sometimes playing with his dog, sometimes exploring the woods. Darkness fell, the he still hasn't come.

When the boy woke up, it was already five in morning. No one came. The same thing happened the next year, and the year after that. When he was 16, he didn't even bother going. Because he knew that the Doctor will never come, and the Doctor has abandoned him forever, leaving him on this alien planet.

2015, September 8

Sherlock sat on his chair strumming his violin. Things were getting, bored as in a way. A client has just left, crying because his goldfish died, plus the fact he tried sleeping with it. He walked over to see what John was doing.

"The Hounds of Baskerville?" he asked, annoyed.

"Yes," John without leaving his eyes off the computer screen. Mrs. Hudson came running in.

"Sherlock, you got a letter, probably one of your clients?"

"I've got no clients currently, now may you please leave."

"Do you need help?"

"I said, 'please' Mrs. Hudson."

Mrs. Hudson scurried off, complaining about telling Sherlock's parents. Sherlock walked towards his chair where Mrs. Hudson left the letter.

"To My Dearest Sherlock" it wrote in a thin cursive handwriting.

"I know this handwriting." Sherlock self-consciously said.

"What?" John asked.

"Nothing" Sherlock waved him off.

He ripped open the letter and inside wrote a single sentence.

"You know who I am, meet me at the place where I left you, to be sent 20 years later, 1995." Sherlock looked up, stunned. Sherlock to pick up his phone and pretends that somebody has called.

"Okay, I'll tell him." He hung up the phone. "John," he said, "Your girlfriend called to see if you're free now. She wants to have lunch with you at Starbucks 12:30. Your phone was off when she called."

"Oh really? Thanks than, I better run." John got up and put on his coat, "Well see you," he shut the door behind him. Sherlock quickly went into his room, stuffed a gun in his pocket and the letter, than put on his coat. He made sure John has completely left, and went out the house and called the taxi.

Sherlock walked to the small clearing in the Redwood Forest, fingering his gun. He searched the clearing. Nobody has been here except for him. He sat on a flat rock and waited. 10 minutes passed and nobody has come yet.

"Is this a joke or what?" Sherlock thought as he got up. "Probably he's never going to come." Sherlock slowly started walking back, his hope extinguishing. Suddenly, there was a gust of wind. There was a slight sound that re-surfed back to Sherlock's memory. A sound that no one can forget.

"I must be imagining things," Sherlock thought and kept on walking. But he wasn't imagining things. The sound felt as real as ever. He heard a door click and someone walk out.

"You have grown, from the day I left you Sherlock." Sherlock stopped walking, he lifted his head high and turned around. There in the middle of the clearing, was a blue police telephone box. A man was messy hair stood besides it. The man walked towards him. Sherlock eyed him warily. But it was real, he is really here. Sherlock stared at him for a long tie. He felt his face grow warm. Then he exploded with anger.

"Twenty years!" he yelled angrily, "Twenty years Doctor! Twenty years you left me here without even seeing me once. Twenty years you could've told me you cared about me! Twenty years Doctor! Twenty!"

Sherlock angrily punched a tree nearby. The tree shook and dead leaves fell from the sky. There a dent where his fist was. The Doctor looked sad.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, I thought you could live on your own now, without me. It's the only way I can keep you safe."

Sherlock pulled a gun out and pointed it at the Doctor.

"Whoa Sherlock, calm down." The Doctor put up his hands in surrender. "Sherlock, drop that gun right now."

Sherlock stared angrily at the Doctor and took a deep breath. He reloaded the gun and shot at the ground twice. The Doctor watched as he twisted the gun into a distorted shape and threw to the ground between them.

"Sherlock…" the Doctor called out to him as Sherlock started walking away. "I came here, to give you something." He showed him the pen that Sherlock gave him 25 years ago.

"Why give it to me now?" Sherlock asked, looking away.

"You know why." The Doctor gave a pained smile. His face was slightly glowing, his face contorted in pain and grief. Sherlock looked back. There was a single tear trickling down his face, he quickly wiped it away so that the Doctor won't see.

"Take it Sherlock, you need it more than me." Sherlock took the pen and slowly turned it around, examining it. He smiled, remembering the time he pickpocket the General.

"It's very nice to meet you, Sherlock." The Doctor held out a hand.

"So this is it. This is where it all came to? You saved me from our planet and abandoned me here, at this place." Sherlock stared at the Doctor, face expressionless.

"Yes," the Doctor replied. He extended his hand. And Sherlock shook it.

Sherlock watched as the Tardis slowly starts to disappear, its whooshing sound growing softer. He turned back and started walking, but not before writing something on his arm. 'Is the Doctor going to come back?' 'Yes,' a delicate scribble of words appeared on his arm. 'When?' Sherlock wrote. 'Soon,' it wrote back. Sherlock smiled as he walked back out the forest.

2015, December 24

Sherlock watched as John walks away from his grave, hand absently brushing his hair. He mustn't tell John. That would ruin the whole plan he and Mycroft has proceeded. Sherlock stood there still and watched as John disappear out of his sight. He was waiting, for somebody. Somebody special. A familiar sound came from the back grew louder and louder. Sherlock sensed something behind him. He heard the door unlock, and somebody walk out.

"So, you're back?" Sherlock asked, still facing the other way.

"Yes," the mysterious voice was so different yet the same. Sherlock guessed a young man with a uncontainable excitement, yet mingled with self-loathing and the hate of himself, and a hint of sadness for his failed companions.

"New face I presume? Do you like it?"

"Not bad…"

"What are you here for?"

"Remember the promise I made you just before I left you 20 years ago?" The Doctor walked closer.

"You said this won't be the last adventure we would have." Sherlock turned around, surveying the Doctor's new look.

"You look even younger than me," he concluded, eyebrows lifted in surprise. "What do you want me for?" Sherlock turned around again.

"The Daleks are back." The Doctor said. The edge of Sherlock's mouth twitched. He turned around with a mischievous smirk.

"You're asking me now to help you?"

"Yes," and the Doctor went the Tardis. Sherlock stood outside pondering for a moment, looking back at his grave. He left a note at where he was standing, and walked in the blue police box.

3 Hours Later

Mycroft was confused. Sherlock should be back by now. He said he was only going to take a quick look. Mycroft went to the grave himself an hour later to check what happened. Nobody was there. Mycroft looked around a little longer He later found a slip of paper next to a large tree. On it wrote,

"To my brother, Mycroft. Take that you stupid jerk. I will be back, so don't send search teams. You and your sucking government people. I'm off to somewhere else. Somewhere you'll never find me. I'm enjoying the time without you and it feels like Christmas. Hope you enjoy sucking on your own loneliness. Your adopted brother, Sherlock."

Mycroft stared at it for a moment. His face grew red. Then he laughed. He laughed so hard tears came out rolling down his cheeks.

"That child of Gallifrey," he chuckled as he walked off.

The End


End file.
